June 6th, 1944
by Shadow of a Failure
Summary: Just another WWII story, but please, give it a chance! This story follows a U.S. Army squad, from their landing on Omaha, to their final chapter. Watch as Bravo-12 fights their way through the European theater, all the way into Germany.


**Hello there dear reader, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this. Please note it is not really related to Saving Private Ryan in any big way, but please, continue reading, I hope it's worth your while. Also, please leave helpful reviews! I need them.**

**Thanks again!**

**June 5****th**** 1944**

The ocean was calm. The boat was barley rocking at all. The troops were fast asleep, the chefs were cleaning up for the night. Nothing could be heard in the halls of "Ethereal", a newly made destroyer, not a sound. The guns were loaded for the next morning. The next morning, where thousands of allied troops were to land on the beaches of Normandy. Mikey thought nobody was ready. Not even the Germans defending it. And yet, Arron, Bravo 12's sniper, and Mikey's room mate for the ride, was so calm.

Arron, a twenty-two year old, six foot tall, bad-ass, sat down in a chair, his Springfield in front of him, on a small table that barley fit in the small room, next to the two bunks. Two of the beds were empty that night. In fact, most of the ride they were empty. Sometimes a new G.I. Or two would come along, and try to take those beds from Arron. Arron always scared them off. They kept his mind off of what mattered, and what mattered is that Joe was dead.

Jake, the black haired, the eighteen year old, who faked his age to get in when he was sixteen, the only reason he got in was because of his height, sat up in his bed, he had been dreaming about home. California. He saw his sister, his cousins, his Mom. He closes his eyes hard, and opens them wide again, and sees the same old, the door, just to the left of the end of the beds, in the middle of the two bunks. The small wardrobe closets they were given just barley squeezed in at the end of the room. All this left was room for some walking, and the chair and desk.

Jake sat there for a minute, watching Arron silently clean his rifle, in the dim light of a lamp. He just stared, wondering. Jake liked to let his mind wonder. It helped him sleep.

"Do you miss him?" Jake says silently, looking down to Arron.

Arron stops dead in his tracks and says nothing. He just stares down at his rifle. And he keeps staring. And keeps staring, until finally...

"Yes. We all do. Africa was hell, you and I both know that. And that sonofabitch Patton-" He pauses, and looks up at Jake.

"I know. If I had gotten the chance, I would have shot that fool on the spot." Jake says.

Arron nods. And then it's silent again. They're both sitting there, letting their minds go where they will.

**December 23****rd**** 1942**

Arron thinks back to the day where Joe died. Explosions can be heard in the background, and bombers fly over head. Arron is with his squad, made up of him, Jake, Matt, Andy, and Joe. Andy and Matt, the two brothers, are both reddish blonde haired teens, both a little less then six foot tall. They're moving across a brick wall, silently. Then, German voices can be heard, panicked.

They round the corner, weapons raised, to find another squad of German soldiers.

"Drop your weapons!"

"Drop em! Now!"

"We'll shoot you, drop your fuckin' guns!"

"Drop your fucking shit, now assholes!"

The squad cries out, surrounding the enemy.

The soldiers do so, and they raise their hands in the air, when a large shell falls into a building nearby, destroying it.

"Too close! That was too damn close! What the hell is that general thinking?!" Joe says, signaling his squad to move back, with the prisoners of course.

One of the prisoners takes this as an opportunity to pick up his gun while the squad of Bravo 12 isn't looking.

Joe turns back round, to be greeted by the end of an MP40. He closes his eyes.

"Of course." He says, preparing to die...

Click. Click. Click click. The German's eyes get wide, and Joe quickly grabs the tip of the gun, throwing it out of the German's hands. Joe takes out his knife...

Meanwhile, the rest of the POWs are following the squad, who are now under a nearby bridge, to take shelter from the shells, now falling much closer to them.

Andy takes the large metal box on his back that is a radio, and puts it in front, and begins trying to operate it. He puts the phone attached to the large equipment, and begins blabbing into the phone. He can't be understood over the shells and explosions.

Joe eventually is seen by the squad, out in a field nearby the brick building. His hands are bloody, and he has a terrified look on his face. Arron starts signaling for him to come to them. He just stares.

Arron runs out, into the hail of shells, and is about to grab Joe when a shell falls behind him.

"Oh, shit!" Matt shouts, from under the bridge. He begins running out to Joe and Arron.

Jake runs out after him, telling Andy to stay there before he does. When Matt and Jake get there, Arron is doing CPR, desperately. Matt arrives, medical supplies at hand. He puts them back after a second, taking in a deep sigh. The shells have stopped now, thankfully.

"This is some heavy shit..." Jake says, lowering his gun, letting down his guard.

Arron is still doing CPR, as best he can. Then Andy comes out from under the bridge, sprinting over. Once he get's there, he sits down in the dead grass of the field, and wipes a sweat from his forehead.

"Arron stop." Jake says. Nothing.

"Stop it Arron!" Jake exclaims again. Still nothing.

Jake grabs Arron's shoulder pulling him back.

"Stop it Arron!" Jake whispers.

Everything from Joe's waste down is gone. All that is left is a disgusting, red mess. Arron gulps, and puts his head on what's left of Joe's body, and begins openly weeping...

**June 6****th**** 1944**

Breakfast. Arron, Matt, Andy, and Jake line up in the mess. Small, whispers are heard between the teens and men, but it's mostly silent. It smells good.

"What is that? Could they be cooking _actual _food for once?" Matt asks, to the group.

Once they get to the front, they realize, they're about to have the best food of their lives... Bacon, pancakes, waffles, sandwiches, steak!

Andy plops down a giant steak onto his plate, grinning the whole time, and grabs a coke on the way to his table.

Arron get's some nice pancakes and bacon, loving every moment.

Matt grabs a chocolate bar and a coke, but nothing else. Many others look at him like he's crazy on his way to the table.

After the majority of the troops have sat down and gotten their food, conversation is lively. It's hard to think for some, for others, it's no problem.

"Matt, what's up, you have like no food?" Arron asks while chewing.

"Not hungry." Matt simply says.

"Hey, I would say eat up at seconds, it could be your last meal." Jake intervenes.

"Yeah, seriously man." Andy says.

"What can I say? I'm not hungry." Matt says.

"Your life, not mine." Arron says, getting back to his food.

**Two hours later...**

"Alright men, get in the boats! We're headed for the beaches in three minutes! Move, move!" An officer calls out across the deck of the "Ethereal."

Down in the LCVP that contains Bravo-12, Matt, Andy, and Jake are praying. Arron sits on the side-lines, loading bullets into magazines for his trust springfield. Every bullet, he gives a message, before putting it in.

"For Joe."

He says, putting in the very last round round.

"Thirty second to launch!" The officers calls out again.

Bombers fly over head, and the ships main gun, along with the rest of the fleet begin shelling the beaches.'

The LCVPs launch out, and meet up with the rest of their brothers.

"Two minutes to beach!" A soldier calls out from the steering position of the LCVP.

People begin throwing up, all over, most of them in fact, but not Matt.

Andy is playing with a grenade, fiddling with it.

"Shit! I think I pulled the pin!" He shouts.

Arron runs over, grabbing the grenade from his hand, holding down the striker lever.

"Somebody find the damn pin!" He shouts.

People begin looking around the floor of the LCVP, and then, an unfamiliar walks over to Arron and drops a pin in his hand.

"Got it." Arron says, inserting the pin back in.

Sighs of releifs can be heard throughout the boat.

"Damnit, I am _so _sorry..." Andy says.

"You could have killed everyone in this fucking boat. No more grenades for you."

People are drinking from their canteens, still some throwing up. The bombers are seen flying back to the carriers, and the shelling of the beaches stop.

Matt hasn't talked since breakfast, and is staring over the sides of the boat, thinking of home. He sees a DD tank, and mumbles to himself.

"Hmph, what kind of genius came up with that idea?"

"Hobart." Says an unfamiliar voice, coming up behind Matt.

"Hobart?" Matt asks.

"Hobart, and his team. Some Brits had the bright idea of a floating tank. We'll see how that turns out." Says the unfamiliar.

"Matt."

"Call me Joey."

Matt's eyes begin to tear up, he doesn't even notice until Joey asks whats wrong.

"Nothing, I just had a friend... He didn't ma-" He is interrupted by the soldier steering the boat.

"Thirty seconds to beach! Get ready!" He calls out.

"Matt get up here!" Arron shouts.

Matt nods to Joey, and works his way through the small, cramped boat to the front.

"Alright, we're here to keep up the right flank. Omaha has received the largest bombings as you saw. Let's hope those fly-boys did their job. We're advancing, keep on me, we should be getting tank cover too. Everyone, make sure your weapons are loaded, and remember stick to cover. Let's do this for Joe." Arron says to the squad, now un-officially under his command. The brass still hadn't found a permanent replacement for Joe.

MG-42 fire begins just seconds before they hit the beach. The ramp lowers, and immediate fire hits some no-names next to Arron.

"Shit!" He exclaims, sprinting out of the LCVP, and hitting the water.

Andy and Matt jump over the side when they realize the ramp is a damn deathtrap. Andy still has his radio equipment attached when he jumps in, weighing him down. The water is unusually deep, and Andy quickly sinks to the bottom. When Matt resurfaces, in the now red water, he panics when he finds Andy isn't there.

"God damnit!" He says, going back under.

Meanwhile, Jake is behind a tank-trap, signaling for Arron to come over, who is just now getting out of the water, and onto the sand. Arron sees him, and runs to him, bullets whizzing by, hitting a GI behind him. Jake looks over, and sees that it's the same throughout the rest of the beach, awful death all over.

"Where the hell are the tanks?!" Arron exclaims, when he get's to Jake. They're only a few yards up the long beach, and it's already scary as hell.

Back in the water, Andy is struggling desperately to get his gear off, as bullets fly by him visibly. None get close to him though, the water stops them just in time. He is about to pass out, when he sees Matt, and begins shouting through the water, accidentally drinking tons of water.

Matt sees him and swims as fast as he can to him, his knife in one hand, and gun in the other, when a sharp pain hits the back of his calf, he shuts his eyes and begins shouting at himself in his mind. He looks back, and sees blood pouring from his leg. He shuts out the extreme pain and get's to Andy with the knife, and begins cutting him free. Matt starts to fade, when he cuts Andy loose, who has now been under-water for almost a minute. Andy takes the knife and cuts himself the rest of the way, and grabs Matt, and floats back up with him. He is greeted by hell. He looks around only to see a flamethrower's back-pack explode, engulfing his squad in liquid death. They all try to sprint to the water, and almost none make it, they either burn to death, or are shot by machine guns.

Explosions begin landing, and the allies quickly realize they're being shelled my German artillery, and take cover, bringing a complete halt to the advance to the bunkers. This is going to be a lot harder than they thought.


End file.
